Flash of Fear
by Twizardck
Summary: Lithuania wants one thing in the upcoming battle, and it isn't his safety. But what is he supposed to think when Poland is showing that he is afraid? Oneshot, implied LietxPoland and LietxRussia.


**Flash of Fear**

**A Twizardck production**

**Though it would be awesome to own Hetalia, I don't.**

**Birthday Update Fest – Number 10**

**This popped up in my mind… I wrote it… Enjoy. Please note that I have not taken World History. That's next year. My knowledge about this time period comes strictly from the Hetalia episode. So it may not be accurate. I can rattle on and on to you about the history of America specifically... But the partitions of Poland? Not so much...  


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It was startling to see him serious. Unbelievable, yet also undeniable because it he was right there, that little frown on his face, crease between his eyes. It was cold that day. Far below zero probably, but I couldn't be sure. All I knew was that in my protective clothing – all those layers and layers of insulation and heat – I was freezing. Teeth chattering. Bones shaking.

He didn't seem to notice it at all. All he did was stand there before the map, top teeth worrying his bottom lip, eyes narrowed in hard thought. I had the upmost faith in him as a force in battle, but also the upmost fear for the other side. We were both small, going against the largest nation on Earth as of now.

One of his hands pushed blonde strands of hair out of his face, the other traced routes on the map. Planning out the movement of the armies. But we both knew what it would come down to. The two of us against the one of him. And though neither of us would say it out loud – it was bad luck to speak your fears – we were sure he would win.

He turned to me, suddenly. A sad, defeated look was on his face. And I knew the verdict.

The armies weren't enough. They would be overwhelmed. And we would have to push the face-off closer.

Our enemy wouldn't want that, we thought. He would want to drag it out, watch us chase after odd ends with desperate hopelessness. It would amuse him. It would strengthen him. Our only chance was to force his hand. The one thing he would not expect.

We hoped.

But as it turned out we were wrong. Having crept out of camp – it would be a messy business to alert our bosses to the whole matter – and snuck through the woods, we found our opponent waiting for us in the clearing, smile on his face, several weapons in hand.

I looked to my companion, the face that always kept me calm, always laughed when I wanted to scream, always knew the wittiest thing to say.

His face was completely blank except for the fear that fled across its edges. And that was when I experienced the cold, numbing sensation so often described in books when the character knows that there is nothing more to do but fight and pray for a victory that cannot happen.

I prayed and tried to stay calm, tried to not let the other man have the pleasure to see my fear as well. I didn't pray for myself. No, I prayed for my companion, for Poland. Because there was no way I was getting out of this with my freedom. Not me, the weakling. I could only hope that my best friend, my savoir, my protector could manage to keep himself safe.

Never did I see what happened during that battle. I was out before I could even take another breath. Whether it was Poland who did to keep me out of things and safe from real harm, or our opponent, Russia, trying to keep one quiet while taking care of the bigger bother, I do not know.

All that I know was that I woke up to see Russia's face close to mine – him leaning down so I could better see him from my vantage point on the ground. I could see individual silver hairs, darker violet flecks in his purple eyes, the minute dimples as he smiled.

"Hey Lithuania." His eyes shown. "You've lost. And since you look like a smart one, you'll be working at my house."

At that moment I was sure that the flash of fear I had seen on Poland's face was mirrored on mine. I could feel myself being pulled to my feet, feel his hand hold onto my arm and drag me towards his land.

"Poland!" I cried, looking at the still unconscious form on the ground. "Poland!"

When he woke up I knew that the serious phase was gone and that he didn't quite know what was going on. I received an answer I'd expect on a day-to-day basis, not on a battlefield.

"Your face totally looks hilarious like that!"

My hopes were dashed. I wasn't getting out of this. I stopped resisting, let Russia pull me farther away from my best friend.

But my prayer had been answered. For now, Poland was safe.


End file.
